This poem is Kahlil Gibran's tribute to all human souls dying uncared for in this world. It is perhaps the most majestic portrayal of death in poetry. Gibran designed this poem as a psychic black hole of immense gravity which continues its journey through the abyss of time, consuming human souls on the way.

The golden gates and arch leading to eternity.

Gibran - the poet, philosopher, painter and sculptor.

Gibran describes the departing of a very lonely and lofty soul from this world when everyone is present except men. Loneliness of human soul and ingratitude of the world have never ever been painted in words more beautifully. 'A Poet's Death is His Life' means when he dies he is living. By his death he has begun to live. It is the gravest song in the book Tears And Laughter. The more we are immersed deep in the song, the brighter are we shown a glimpse of the golden gates and arch leading to eternity. But once we have a glimpse of that threshold, it will be hard for us to return to immediate realities. That is how the magic and charm of this poem led many appreciators astray. So beware of this song. It may permanently change you and most often there might not be a return to our former self.

A poet who wrote beautiful poems in bronze.
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The famous Adastra Sculpture by Kahlil Gibran.

﻿Gibran wrote this poem in blank verse which prevented its full enjoyment and singing. P.S.Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum slightly edited and recast this song in the true poetic form so that all the world may sing. This is the Fifth Song from Tears And Laughter that has been recast in the true poetic form. Hints and suggestions for singing the song have been marked, so that anyone who tries to sing it won't stumble and fall. Readers, learners and researchers are advised to read Gibran's original blank verse text as well.

The dim oil lamp flickering in a deserted hovel.
﻿

A hovel in the suburbs of a town

From Kahlil Gibran'sTears And Laughter.A Poet's Death Is His Life__________________________________Slightly Edited and Recast In The True Poetic Formby P.S.Remesh Chandran, Editor,Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.__________________________________

One.Dark wings of night enfolded the cityUpon which Nature'ad put a pure and whiteGarment of snow; and 'men deser'ted the streetsFor their 'houses in search of warmth while the north wind In contemplation of laying the gardens waste. [probedThere in the suburb an old hut heavily stoodLa'den with snow and on the 'verge of falling. InA dark recess of that 'hovel was 'a poor bedIn which was lying a dying youth staringAt the dim 'laaight of his oil lamp,'Made to flicker by th'entering winds.He 'was a man in the 'spring of life who fore - saw'Fully that the peaceful hour of freeingHimself from the clutches of life was fast nearing.He was awaiting Death's visit gratefullyAnd upon his 'paaile face appeared the dawnOf hope; and on his lips a sorrowfulSmile 'aand in his 'ey'es forgiveness.

A lone hungry visitor on an alien world.
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The stoning of a poet.

Two.He was a poet perishing from hungerIn the city of the living rich. He was placed inThe earthly world to enliven the heartOf Man with his profound beautiful sayings.He was a noble soul sent, by the GoddessOf Understanding, to smoothe and make gentleThe human spirit. But a'las! He gently badeThe cold earth farewell without receivingA sm'aeel from it's stra'eenge occupants.Will far away stars bow down to soothe this trodden soul?
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The mind of a dying poet.

Three.He was 'breathing his last and had no one at his bedsideSave the 'oil lamp, his 'only companion, andSome parchments 'upon which he had inscribed hisFeeling. As he sal'vaged the remnants ofHis withering strength, he lifted his hands heavenward;He moved his 'ey'es hopelessly, as ifWan'ting to p'ene'trate the ceiling soTo 'see the stars from be'hind the veil of clouds.He who speaks the language of angels is doomed in the world.
﻿Four.He said: Come beautiful Death, my soul 'is longingFor you. Come close to me and unfastenTh'irons of life, I am weary of dragging them.Come sweet Death, deliver me from my neighboursWho look upon me as a stranger becauseI interpret the language of th'angels.Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry meFrom these 'multitudes who left me in the darkCorner of oblivion because I do notBleed weak as they do, come oh gentle Death.En'fold me un'der your 'wha'ight wings, for myFellowmen are 'not in 'want of me, embrace meOh Death, 'full of love and mercy; let your lipsTouch my 'lips which 'ne'ver tasted a mother's kiss,Nor 'touched a 'sister's cheeks, caressed a sweetheart'sFinger'tips. Come, and take me, my beloved Death.

A divine beauetee came down and closed his eyes.
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Beyond the Golden Gate and Arch.

Five.Then at the bedside of the dying poetA'ppeared an 'angel who 'possessed supernat'ralAnd divine beauetie, holding in her handA wreath of li'llees. She embraced himAnd closed his eyes so he could see no moreExcept with the eye of his spirit. She im'pressed a deepAnd long and gentlee withdrawn kiss that leftAn e'ternal smile of ful'fillment upon his lips.Then the 'ho'vel 'be'caime empty and 'nothing was leftSave parchments and papers which the poet had'Strewn about with bitter fu'tility.Deny the poet food and love. When he is dead erect a monument.
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﻿Six.Hundreds of years later 'when peopleArose from the diseased slumber of IgnoranceAnd saw the Dawn Of Knowledge had 'erectedA 'monument in a most 'beautiful garden ofThe city, and celebrated 'a feast 'every yearIn honour of the poet, whose writings hadFreed them. How cruu'el is Man's ignorance!

He is one of my favorite authors, along with Rumi and Hafiz---nice to see this post. And to meet a fellow Keralite here, too. I've lived most of the past 20 years in Kerala (Malayalam Ariyam)--though at the moment am in USA.

Nandi and namaskaaram for your valuable comment. Perhaps the same good old wind and rain and sunshine nurtured us. Rumi and Hafiz along with Gibran and many other Persian poets created heavenly music. They are far above my reach. To reach them I have to leave the ground. I simply try to introduce them to the growing siblings and keep alive the interest in them. Thanks Rama Devi Nina for your support and encouragement. Your poems are excellent. They remind me of Sarojini Naidu.

It is alleged that Kahlil Gibran hid his exquisite tunes behind a mask of blank verse to prevent the dull wits and the half wits of his times from enjoying his songs. This song is for the first time recast in the true poetic form by Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum so that all the world may sing. It is expected that beautiful orchestrations of this immortal song will follow from other quarters of the world.

Through the skies she comes, down to the earth, to sustain a planet.
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Clouds in the sky.

﻿﻿Song Of The Rain is included in Kahlil Gibran's famous collection of poems Tears And Laughter. It is written in the form of the rain herself singing her song as she comes down. In scientific perfection, this song can be compared only to P.B.Shelley's Ode To The West Wind, which will leave readers which one excels. Rain is beautifully personified in this song. Gibran was a close observer of not only human nature, but nature's creations and elements also. It is the first time in literary history that someone tells about the inner feelings and thrill of the rain in pouring out, spreading on the ground, seeping into the inner bowels of the earth and sustaining this planet.

Dotted silver threads, delivering love messages.
﻿﻿

Rain on trees.

﻿﻿Rain is dotted silver threads dropped from heaven by Gods, which nature takes away then to adorn her fields and valleys. She is beautiful pearls plucked by the Daughter of Dawn from some sovereign's crown, to embellish her gardens. The clouds and fields are lovers and she is a messenger between them. By pouring out the rain cures the cloud and by coming down to the ground she quenches the thirst of the field. The voice of thunder declares her arrival and the rainbow her departure. When she cries coming down the skies the hills laugh, when she reaches the ground the flowers rejoice, and when she has seeped down deep into the soil all things are elated.

Listen to the rain: it is an incessant song.
﻿﻿

Shelter in rain under a tree.

﻿﻿Rain emerges from the heart of the sea and soars with the breeze. When she sees a field in need, she descends and downpours and embraces the flowers and trees in her own million little ways. In human houses, she touches the windows with soft gentle fingers and all can hear her welcome song which but the sensitive can understand. She is born out of heat in the air which in her turn she kills, exactly as a woman overcomes a man with the strength she takes from him. Rain is the sigh of the sea, the laughter of the field and the tears of the Heaven and Love. One will wonder how scientific and close Kahlil Gibran was. It was as if he entered the very soul of the Rain to sing on her behalf. This song is only one of Gibran's many exquisite creations. Just listen to the rain: it is the tune that made this song. Gibran did not invent or create a tune for this song, he copied it. Actually he stole it from the rain.

Rivers, meadows and mountains all sing songs after rain.
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Wet grass after winter rain.

﻿﻿As the rain reaches earth, life in the planet rejuvenates. Rivers, rivulets, streams, ponds, lakes, lagoons and oceans replenishes. Nature appears as if she has been washed out clean and lain to dry in sunshine. Grass turns lush green, squirrels birds and cows come out and the sky is once more serene. Rivers, meadows and mountains all sing songs after a rain.

Song Of The Rain. The Poem Recast.
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Rainbow above water. God' promise to man.

3. SONG OF THE RAIN.[Slightly edited and recast in the true poetic form by P.S.Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum]I am dotted silver - threadsDropped from heaven by Gods,Nature takes me then - toAdorn her fields and valleys.I am beautiful pearls - pluckedFrom the crown of Ishtar,By the daughter of Dawn - toEmbellish her gardens.Rain, the most joyful thing in this world.
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A Song Thrush after a torrential rain.

When I cry the hills laugh - andWhen I humble myselfThe flowers rejoice, and when IBow, all things are elated.The 'field and cloud are lovers - me a Messenger of mercy between them,I quench the thirst of the field - andCure th'ailment of the cloud.The 'voice of thunder declaresMy 'arrival and the rainbowA'nnounces my departure - 'am likeEarthly life which begins atThe 'feet of mad elements, endsUn'der th'upraised wings of death.I gently touch the windows with my soft fingers.
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Green pasteure, the blessing of the rain.

Heart 'of the sea I emerge from - andSoar with the breeze. When I seeA 'field in need I descend andEm'brace the flowers and trees - in my'Million little ways.I 'gently touch the windowsWith my s'oft fingers - And myAn'nouncement is a welcome - song'All can hear but only - the sensi-Tive can understand.I am the laughter of the field.
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Rain on house front and pavement.

I 'am the sigh of the sea,The laughter of the field,The 'tears of the Heaven,'And so is with love.Sighs 'from deep sea of affection,Laugh'ter from colourful fieldOf 'spirit; and tears from th'endless'Heaven of memories.Note

Rain is legendary. It is what caused and preserved life in this planet. Life which arrived in some meteorite particle and remained in the sky was brought down to the earth in a rain. When it rained incessantly for months and months, the world submerged in floods but Noah with a few samples of life forms escaped in his Ark. When water subsided he offered a sacrifice and prayer to God who solaced and assured man that he will never again destroy world through water. As a token of his covenant, he laid his beautiful bow on the rain clouds. After the rain, when the rainbow appears God is reminded of his promise to man that he will not destroy the world again with rain. It is true, after the rainbow there is no rain, though there is excellent scientific reason for the same.

PSRemeshChandraEditor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan : The Intelligent Picture Book. CommentsRathnashikamani17th Apr 2011 (#) Great compilation. A true literary commentary on the poetry of the spiritual poet Kahlil Gibran.

loverme16th Apr 2011 (#) The rain. I think none of us can compose such exquisite rainy poetry as did Kahlill Gibran of yesterdays.We all are more proasic than the poetic of the poets of to day ,Let us hope some day ,we can compose poems Kahlil Gibran's ,innimitable way

Rathnashikamani17th Apr 2011 (#) loverme,Rain inspires.Your comment is wonderful.And I saw you got inspired by this and posted a tribute also.

PSRemeshChandra1st May 2011 (#) Yes Dear Rathnashikamani. I read Loverme's tribute too. It is fine. Someday, as loverme likes, many will begin to write as inimitably as Gibran thereby ending all inimitability. Anyway, considering your love for the Rain Theme, I have posted a few pictures now.

Jass khurana1st Oct 2011 (#) I luv this poem as i get to know about god's messages and nao i believe in god.

Bindu14th Dec 2011 (#) This is quite beautiful with all those wet shots... Long live Gibran through his words and expressions....

Roushan Mishra25th Dec 2011 (#) I'm passionately interested in this song as it's full of personification.

PSRemeshChandra5th Jan 2012 (#)

Dear Jass Khurana, Prachi, Bindu and Roushan Mishra,

Thank you for your observations and comments. When Kahlil Gibran is concerned, no one in this world can know whoever were captivated for once or for a life time by this immortal poet. Certainly Sarojini Naidu and Rabindranath Tagore loved him. Because the present day world sees many poets who are lacking in musical minds, our only solace is the abundance of ancient poetry left to us as a legacy by the bygone poets. Because of their time-surpassing musical poetry we do not feel and sense poetry drying up around us. Gibran is perhaps one of the last poets of that era, a picture which probably will be the last one we see standing there when we too are leaving this world.

Mancirat kaur15th Jan 2012 (#) A beautiful poem. Like this poem because i love nature and i am passionately interested in nature. Gibron has beautifully shown all the forms of the rain.

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Born and brought up in a rural hamlet, Nanniyode, in the Sahya Mountain Valley in Trivandrum. Father British Council trained English teacher and Mother University educated. Matriculation with distinction and Pre Degree Studies in Science in Mar Ivanios College, Trivandrum with National Merit Scholarship. Discontinued Diploma Studies in Electronics and entered politics. Taught English Poetry for 30 years and served equally long in State Civil Service. Continuing. Unmarried and single. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam, including poetical collections, fictions and criticism. Ulsava Lahari, Darsana Deepthi, Puzhayozhukee Eevazhi, Vaidooryam, Manal, Jalaja Padma Raaji, Kaalam Jaalakavaathilil, Goodlaayi Graamum, Time Upon My Window Sill, The Good English Book and Swan, The Intelligent Picture Book are a few among.

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